Beasts Within and Beasts Without
by BitchwithFangs
Summary: Sometimes, Dean had to wonder if doing the things they did, if hunting the things they did, meant that their mental states were changed to match their prey.


Beasts Within and Beasts Without

Sometimes, Dean had to wonder if doing the things they did, if _hunting_ the things they did, meant that their mental states were changed to match their prey. It was something in the eyes of the Hunters he had encountered, a slight feral-ness, a hint of something savage, which changed the way they looked at the rest of the world. Sometimes it was subtle. Bobby always somehow reminded Dean of one of the dogs the man owned. Slightly past his prime, starting to slow down, and needing more time doing things like resting, or reading; non-physical things, but he still had the feeling that if you really did push it, you would find out that those teeth were still sharp, those limbs still deadly. It was also in the loyalty that Bobby showed, not always obvious, but there none the less.

In other Hunters it was far more obvious. Gordon, for example. Dean wasn't sure whether he was the best of examples, having literally been turned into what he hunted, but he was an example still. To be honest, there was some part of Dean that remained somehow unsurprised when that had happened. It was fitting in a way. Even before Gordon had been turned, something in his gaze was always more beast than man, logical thought process coming second, always second, to the desire to hunt and _kill, _in a way that he saw as being morally correct. Dean would have snorted at that if it wasn't so scarily similar to the way he sometimes felt, like no-one else was quite important enough to be of notice to him, besides in the ole "fight or fuck" category. It was times like that when Dean was so grateful to have Sammy. Sammy kept him grounded, showed him that there were people worth fighting _for_, rather than simply fighting, even if the only person was Sammy.

To Dean, the Winchesters, oh so like the rifle, could only be one type of animal. Wolves. Not just because of how lethal they could be, how deadly - although that was a large part of it – but because of how they operated. Wolves are pack animals, they thrive with others, and yet the strength of the lone wolf is never to be underestimated. At some point, each of the Winchesters had been a lone wolf, and in some ways it had just made them that little bit more deadly, that bit more willing to do anything for those they view as pack.  
To the Winchesters, it was always clear, at least at first, who the Alpha wolf was. John Winchester, the man who submitted to no-one, even when being tortured in hell. Dean was raised with him, John, always being the Alpha, and as much as Dean respected him, wanted to be just like him, Dean would never try to be higher in the pack than his dad. It just wasn't something he would do. He was raised John's perfect Beta, instead. Obeying all orders, never questioning them.  
It was only Sammy who had a trouble with that. Sammy, demanding to be called Sam, who was never quite willing to submit to John's leadership. Sam wanted to be the Alpha, even if he never quite realised it, and everybody knows that you can't have two alphas in one pack. They rip it to shreds. So Sam had his first go at playing lone wolf. Playing at it, like a little kid. When John disappeared, and Dean truly was left on his own, Dean envied his brother that. But when Dean came, so desperate to have his pack and the one who could ground him back, Sam was still never quite Alpha. Maybe because he realised how lonely being a lone wolf was, even if it was just a play one, that he was desperate enough, maybe it was because he was grieving. Maybe it was just somehow because it was _Dean_, who never quite drove him up the wall in the same way that dear old Dad did. Dean could never quite understand Sam's reason, and would never admit to Sam – _Sam_ - how much he valued that for whatever reason Sam had become _Sammy_ again for him. No chick-flick moments, remember? Sometimes, on those nights in which he had far too much to drink, in those moments that he would never remember the next day, Dean wondered if he hadn't got that thought wrong, that his little Sammy wanted to be an Alpha. He wondered if the reason Sam never got on with John was because he never saw him as Alpha in the first place, only ever looking up to the person who really raised him; his big brother Dean, and wasn't that just a kicker of a thought. Some part of Dean was thankful that he never had those thoughts when sober, because then he wouldn't have any reason to not remember them, wouldn't have a reason to not understand.  
And so, when after the never-ending Tuesday, after Dean's death and subsequent resurrection, he tried not to worry too much when Sam seemed to decide that he didn't quite want to be Beta anymore, that he didn't want his _pack _anymore. When Sam thought that Dean wouldn't notice his younger brother sneaking out in the middle of the night to learn from _her_ and not his brother. Dean tried not to worry, to not get angry at his brother, because if there was one thing the Winchesters resembled it was wolves, and all lone wolves would want to, eventually, go back to their pack. It was a wolf thing, and a Winchester thing, and Dean was counting on it, even as he tried desperately to forget that demons weren't wolves, and so neither was part of the blood running in his Sammy's veins. He tried not to think that the sanity of his brother might rest on the fight between his blood; the part that was _demon _and the part that was Winchester, family, _pack_. He tried not to imagine who would win in a battle between a demon and a wolf. But even then, when he must think of it, when he _can't stop thinking it_, he tries to remember that it wouldn't be demon versus wolf. It would be demon versus _pack_, because Winchesters stick together and there was no way that Dean was going to let some good-for-nothing demon take away his little brother. He couldn't, because who would there be to ground him then? Be there to tell the difference between the fuglies and the normals, when Dean wasn't able to, because none of them were Pack, and none of them important enough to matter anymore, just like him.

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So, what did you think? Like it? Hate it? Want it to burn in hell? Do tell. Ill try and actually reply to any reviews, if I get any.

*Hopefull grin*

Disclaimer; I do not, in any way, shape or form, own the TV series Supernatural, as much as I'd love to. I do own the ideas in this fic though, i think, so please dont steal, or ask before you do.

Ok, I'm re-posting this because i just wanted to take the opertunity to clear a few probs.

1. Erm, a few people seem to think that this story is going to get more chapters or something, when it was kinda intended to be a one-shot drabble. It is also set as complete. I am really pleased that people like this fic enough to think it might have more coming, however, so if anyone does have an idea of how I can extend it, please feel free to tell me

2. I found out after posting this that somebody has written a series of stories in the xmen catogories called "beast within, beast without", and so want to really apologise for accidently using the same -ish title. Sorry!  
Unfortunatly I can't think of a title to change it to, as I do like my current one, so I'll be leaving it as is for now.

3. I was told in passing by someone unaware that I was the author that this fic doesn't really make sence, so if you do find that then let me know, and I'll try to explain it, or change it. Also would be quite nice if someone said what was hard to understand.

Sorry for all the hassle, and to those who thought this was an update, but Cheers for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!

BitchwithFangs


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